


A little Issue

by Eagefrien



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, post cave, pre search for lewis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eagefrien/pseuds/Eagefrien
Summary: Arthur has noticed that something is off in his home, something is here.He hasn't had a ghost haunt his place of residence in a long time, but this one is smug and taunting and knows his name for whatever reason.
Relationships: Arthur & Lance (Mystery Skulls Animated), Arthur & Lewis (Mystery Skulls Animated), Arthur & Vivi (Mystery Skulls Animated)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 69





	1. Who's here

**Author's Note:**

> oopsie doodle, some small lighthearted fun,  
> I have a few ideas for this! But nothing... TOO angsty? Idk, I still need to flesh it all out

Arthur was more than ready to simply exorcise the prick. His finger itching to press the call button and demand with the utmost exasperation for Vivi to please come over with whatever charms, vacuums, bottles, and books she needed to grab this spirit by its collar and evict it. 

Of course, he could also exorcise it. Trap it in a circle and ward it off with one of his many candles. 

If, the fucker didn’t already know what half of it was and how to sabotage them. Arthur grimaces as he glances over to the box of candles and charms that were coated in vaseline and glue. It was going to be a bitch to meticulously clean them all. Even more so because they’re  _ expensive. _

Even his incense got tampered with! 

Tapping his foot, Arthur pockets his phone and stares into his own room, taking a few moments to examine it with the lights off. The neatly made bed with the covers touching the floor, the lamp right beside it, his desk covered in books and papers, and his walls covered in bulletin boards, a mirror, his ceiling…  _ covered in duct tape,  _ and the closet. Arthur kept scanning every inch of the room for any hint of wavering shadow and flicker. He lightly traces the outline of the  _ flashlight _ he just made in his pocket. 

“Hello, my name is Arthur, but I’m sure you already know that.” A rustle, several papers flutter on his disheveled desk. Faintly Arthur recalls just how  _ petrifying _ it was to see when it first happened a little over a month ago.  _ Now he just wanted to yank his hair out. _ Arthur sighs and continues, “I’m not going to bring you harm, I don't  _ want _ to cause you harm. However, I need you to listen to me, and abide by my commands.” 

_ Stay confident. Don’t let it see that you’re scared, that it bothers you. _

The room doesn’t respond. 

“Okay… I’ll take that you get it.” Arthur takes a deep sigh, tapping his finger against his thigh as he ponders just  _ where _ its hiding. It wouldn’t jump out at him would it?  _ Wouldn’t be the first time a pesky ghost did so… _ “You’re in my room, my  _ house, _ and I do not welcome you in my sacred places. Leave at once.” 

WHAM. Arthur yelps, breaking the stoic appearance he forced himself to uphold. The papers on his desk don’t rustle and lay crumpled like he expected.

But something dark streaks across his room in the blink of an eye. 

“... S-so you don’t like that suggestion. Fine, you don't have to.”  _ Shit. This is NOT the time to stall, Arthur. _ “Then answer me this, what do I need to make you leave. What’s keeping you here.” Some ghosts don't have reasons to bind themselves to specific places, but most times they have a  _ purpose. _

No response. 

Except for some light creaking. Arthur glances across the room toward his bed, and he notices that the blankets were shuffled, pulled forward. Allowing just enough space for something to peer out.  _ Gotcha. _

Nothing else happens, most likely it doesn’t want to be caught, “Do you need something to write with?” 

Nothing. 

“I can see you under the bed.” He couldn’t, but it was worth a shot. 

A choir of creaks erupt, and the blankets shuffle more.  _ Okay, it's BIGGER than usual? Or an adult.  _ Arthur ponders, watching the bed lift and- 

With a sudden gust of wind, blackness flies across the room. Arthur gasps, ducking away as the black wisps graze his nose. Flinching again when the closet door slams shut right beside him. Heart hammering, Arthur grips the door frame. Staring at the now shut closet with fear pulsating in his arm. For a second, he couldn’t think of anything to do with this new fact. Only when his thoughts return, does Arthur’s throat tighten before yanking out another contraption from his pocket. 

_ Now’s your chance! _ He slams himself against the wooden door- hearing  _ it _ move more- and Arthur clips the glowing lock in place around the Closet’s knobs. As it clicked, the spirit must have realized what he was doing. Heavy  _ banging _ erupts and Arthur’s shoulders wind up into his neck as the sound reverberates through the entire room. The closet, the bed,  _ everything _ rumbled with the anger behind those fists. 

“S-shit..!” His heart refused to slow down, making his knees tremble with the same fury as the rest of the room. But that fear jumbled up and morphed into annoyance, and for a second he was happy that Lance was working.  _ “Hey, _ don’t act like i’m  _ not _ going to retaliate!” He yells at the closet, before cringing at how  _ you really aren’t supposed to do that. _ Except.. The banging stops, replaced with what sounded like  _ angry huffing. _ And the rest of the room calms down with it. Leaving Arthur to be the only trembling thing in it. He lets out a shaky sigh and digs into his pocket again, pulling out a thin, UV flashlight. “Like I told you, I’m.. not happy with your… presence.” 

As Arthur turns it on, he can almost hear a  _ I know _ from the closet. But it was so faint and quiet that he couldn’t tell. 

Instead, his attention is ripped away as he shines the light across his room. Jaw dropping, Arthur’s eyes widen as he glances from wall to wall and sees it’s covered in graffiti. 

But… they weren’t… bad? Not like 

Arthur’s eyebrows furrow as he makes out a Miku mural across his wall above his bed, with a speech about the moon and hearth inscribed. Across his bulletin boards was several designs of … the sailor moon characters? Along with pudgy short characters, dancing across his desk and dresses and the word Serena being etched and crossed out- 

… What? The last thing he expected to see was cute kids in skirts. But now he just feels silly for bracing himself for death and horror, even if the vibes  _ only _ implied that… 

“Uh… So… what's with the… art?” Arthur bit his lip, noticing a few markings on the wall that vaguely looked like  _ fuck you, Arthur. _ Which did nothing but elevate his confusion, although it's the one part that seemed to make sense in terms of being haunted. Now he just had to wonder  _ why him? _

_ Don’t assume, ghosts can and do tend to attach themselves to places where trauma has occurred. And you’re a medium with PTSD, of course you’re a magnet for this shit.  _ Arthur swallows and glances back up to the closet. Instead of just seeing the glowing lock, Arthur jumps back as he notices streaks of color, shapes and curves and… 

_ Was that him?  _ Blood drains from his face and he stares at the .. painting and noticing more and more details. His desk, the papers, his hair in a ponytail and was that-? A  _ cigarette? _ He cringes, suddenly realizing how  _ long _ this ghost had to have been there in order to see him smoke-! 

_ He only did so a few times after he was discharged-! Since.. Since when?  _ It's only been a few weeks since he’s left, and in the painting thing he clearly has bandages so-? 

**“I like to draw.”** A voice announces. Arthur whips around, his neck sore and aching from how much he was jerking about, only for the voice coming back from the closet and hearing it echo throughout his head,  **“You should look into massage therapy. It certainly isn’t good to jostle yourself so much.”**

“... W-wha.. You can talk?” 

**“Of course I can!”** The voice was gravelly and .. almost distinct? Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to pinpoint it, only for the closet to tremble as it moved.  **“It’d been tough to point out how dumb you are if I didn’t have one.”**

Arthur’s jaw drops, hands held in front of him uselessly and shining the UV light more toward the floor- carpeted in more words he couldn’t read. 

Disregarding his shock, the voice grunts,  **“Now, can you open the door? This closet is way too small and I’ll get a crick in my neck soon.”** It-he grumbles. Arthur shoves down his flabbergasted thoughts.

“Why are you here?” 

**“Hm?”**

“I said,  _ why are you here? _ Why are you in my room?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, before he can hear the ghost squeeze past hangers and clothes,  **“Because.”**

“Because why?” Arthur almost growls.

**“I want to.”**

“That's- well- can you…” Arthur bites his lip, glancing around the room for a possible weapon, “leave?” 

**“... I’d rather not. I like hiding under your bed.”**

_ That is the worst possible thing you could have said!  _ Arthur grimaces as he pictures some shadowy  _ thing _ crawling under him as he slept, “I- I really don’t-!”

**“That's quite a predicament you’re in.”** The voice returns, firm and annoyed, the smuggest prick imaginable comes to mind,  **“Unfortunately I don’t particularly care.”**

_ This is … not what’s supposed to happen. _ Arthur stands there, mouth agape as he stares at the lock. At a complete and utter loss.  _ Of course it was going to act like this. Of course.  _ Arthur could already feel his hair being ripped out of his head from his frustration building. 

“Then.. then why should I let you out?” Arthur asks, crossing his arms and glaring at the closet like the ghost could see him through it. Which honestly he wouldn’t doubt if it could and it was flipping him off as they spoke.

**“... I suppose you’re correct about that.”** He says quietly, followed by .. tapping? Was he drumming his fingers against the wall? Only for the smug voice to chuckle in a way that's _familiar?_ **“But if you refuse to let me out, then I suppose we will both suffer.”**

_ Oh my god,  _ “What does that mean?”  _ Is there a bomb? Is everything going to break? Did I step into a pocket realm-!? _

**“I cleaned your room, all of your clothes are in this closet. Dirty in a basket and clean hung up- and you should really invest in an iron! There’s so many wrinkles in your shirts! How do you live like this?”**

_ Is this ghost really trying to insult his clothes?  _ But Arthur casts a quick glance around the room and notices the only pieces of clothes were his socks he threw on the floor that morning and shorts.  _ It actually cleaned his room. Why? That's the least detrimental thing it could have done! More annoying now that anything.  _ Arthur cringes though,  _ fuck I still forgot to do laundry and- shit. _

“God dammit.”

**“Exactly,”** _ He’s going to smack that shit-eating grin off its face- wait he doesn’t know what it even looks like- _ **“we’re both fuc-.. Uh… screwed.”**

_ There's no kids here why are you-  _ His thoughts jumble together as Arthur spares the lock a hesitant glance, “... So… If…. you’re not going to leave.” 

**“I Absolutely will not, but go on.”**

_ He should call Vivi. This- this can't be happening. _

He has a ghost in his house. One that’s not going to leave-? No, no it HAS to leave because there's  _ no way _ Arthur is going to sit back and let them just  _ hang out in his room-! _

“N-no-! Ge-”

**“I'm not going to leave,”** He interjects. Arthur leaps back as the base of the loud voice rumbles through his body, **“so you may as well set some ground rules."**

“...” Arthur glances back up at them- the closet, knees shaking, “... What so you can break them?”

**“That depends, are they as ridiculous as you are?”**

Arthur blinks heavily, too stunned to respond, and he takes a deep breath, “... You aren’t staying here, you got it?” 

**_“We’ll see about that.”_ **

“... One second.” Arthur grumbles half heartedly, pocketing the flashlight- ignoring the resulting tension when the paintings and all of that vanish in a flicker and leave him in the darkness. But that doesn’t occupy him long, he shuffles out of the room and closes the door softly. 

**“... Arthur, are you going to let me out..?”**

_ “Heyo Artie, Whats up?”  _ Vivi’s voice fills his ear, and her yawn fills his ear and resounds through his skull, reminding him a bit too late that it's night for her and she's-  _ “You don't normally call me this late.. Isn’t it like eight am for you?” _

“Nine actually… uh…”  _ Where did he think he was going with this? She’s in fucking Japan. Of course she can’t help you right now.  _ “Uh… I’m.. being haunted.”

The blankets are thrown off, Vivi hoisting herself off the bed,  _ “For real? God dammit, Artie! Why do you- why is it when I'm always gone you decide to get a ghost buddy-?”  _

_ “You act like I want to,”  _ He whispers, voice straining, “l-look, just.. When are you coming back? I kinda-.. Need you?”

_ “I can get a plane home now if it's dire,” _ Vivi says,  _ “What’s it doing? Attacking you?” _

Arthur glances at the door, biting his lip, “... No, not exactly? It's just… hiding under my bed and being a nuisance? Like it’ll knock my water bottle off the bed and then tie up my socks and  _ clean my room” Yeesh, thats embarrassing, “ _ but like… not much else? I just- I just  _ met _ the guy and he’s.. Ah…” 

Vivi stifles a yawn against her arm,  _ “Well, Artie, I’m coming back on friday. Its- its monday right?”  _

Arthur deflates, frowning, “Sunday.”

_ “Fuck. Okay, do you think you can last that long..?”  _

“... Yeah, Yeah I can… as long as you help me - ya’ know..”

_ “Take him out? Would you like me to guide you through an exorcism..?” _

“... Nah, I think he’ll figure out what I'm doing and trip out… I’ll just wait for you.”

_ “You sure?” _

“.... No. No not really, but there's nothing I can do until then… The fucker asked me to put up ground rules for the house-! Which he probably won't even follow!  _ Can you believe that Vivi?” _

_ “First of all, probably best you don't call them fucker, and second… try! He may listen to you if you’re calm and direct. Show him he doesn’t hold power over you.” _

“You seem to be forgetting that he very much holds a lot of power over me.” Arthur whines, glancing over his shoulder again and expecting to see something horrifying over his shoulder. Instead nothing, he was all on his own. Lance was still working, Vivi is in Japan… 

And He is alone with a chaotic ghost. 

Arthur sighs, before he slumps his shoulders, “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ll… I'll come up with something.”

_ “Good idea, do you have any ideas of what boundaries to set?”  _

“K..kinda!” 

_ “Okay! Good luck!! I’ll be sleeping then, okay?” _

“Yeah, okay goodnight.”

_ “Good night.” _

“Okay… ghostie,” Arthur says quietly as he wanders back into the room, hearing it shift like it was crossing its arms or.. Something, “Here are the ground rules.”

**“About time..”**

"One," Arthur holds up his fingers, despite the ghost still being in a closet, "Do  _ not _ fuck with my uncle. Don't bother him or- or cause him any trouble. Two, don’t attack me. Emotionally or physically, that includes biochemical warfare like..."  _ Shit what exactly does that entail again- "... poisoning, _ or putting weird shit in food and water and .. that. And third rule, don't... break anything. Anything that's in the house, just assume it's sentimental, and don't touch it.  _ Especially _ Lance's stuff.”  _ God, he was just pissed when you broke his mug, imagine how upset he’d get if this guy got into his wrestling stuff-!  _ Swallowing that anxiety, Arthur drops his hand and stares at the lock, “If you follow those three, it.. we should be fine. Stay in the house. Leave Lance’s shit alone, leave my shit alone, and… and we’ll be fine.”

_ God, how is he going to tell Lance? He HAS to know about this before he starts waltzing down to the kitchen! God- god dammit! Why is it always HIM- _

**“Glorious, I’ll make sure to keep the breaking to a minimum.”**

_ This is going to be hell, isn’t it.  _ Arthur resists the urge to groan, “Do you want to be let out or not?”

**“Yes, please for the love of the good heavens open the damned door.”**

_ This is a bad idea,  _ Arthur's mind tells himself, a winding sensation coiling in his shoulders and making his neck feel tight.  _ Yes, but there's not much else I can do. _

A shaky hand grasps the lock, and after a second of fiddling, it comes undone. 

And the closet door  _ bursts open. _

Arthur leapt back, slipping on his heel and onto his ass. A jolt of pain rippled through him but was ignored in favor of taking in the enormous mass stepping from the closet interior. The space filled with glowing pink light and shimmering sparkles surround the ghost. A blacked leg-  _ its wearing a suit- _ stepping out and it looms right before him. 

A skull glares down at him. Through narrowed sockets. And with plumes of  _ fucking FIRE? _ surrounding his head. 

**"I suppose you would be interested in introductions, correct?"**

"S-sure...?" His was pretty much a Disney movie entrance, Arthur could feel his skin and eyes blaze just from the burst of heat.

For barely a fraction of a second, he looked _ nervous.  _ **"Very well, My name is...** **_Ingrid Bergman."_ **


	2. Take care of yourself!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur talks to lance and then tries to take a shower, against someones wishes

The two stare at eachother for a few seconds longer, particles and glowiness from the closet is dimming and fading around them. Ingrid begins tapping his foot as he shifts, awkwardly glancing from the floor back up to Arthur, who is annoyed to say the least.

**“Well?”**

”... What… do you want me to say?”Arthur quickly thinks that wasn’t a good idea, but before he can cringe and tense up, Ingrid huffs dramatically. The air around him seeming to fluff up like a perturbed chicken.

He waves his hand with annoyance,  **“Anything! I’ve been terrorizing you for weeks and you can’t even make a show of your shock? Your surprise? Goodness, you’re so** **_boring.”_ **

He could argue, and Arthur nearly does. Opening his mouth to spat something back. But the heaviness of his eyes and the confusion settling on his body distracts him and he forgets. Deflating, Arthur sluggishly steps out of the room and starts heading his way down the stairs. With wide sockets, Ingrid shakes his head and quickly follows Arthur’s steps. 

**“Where are you going?”**

Arthur stops half way down the stairs with a heavy exasperated sigh, which abruptly catches Ingrid’s attention, who nearly bumps into him.. Arthur spins around half way, shooting a bitter glare toward Ingrid.

“Remember the ground rules?  _ Don’t fuck with Lance, Got it?” _

Ingrid looks a little startled, as if he wasn’t used to being addressed as such. But quickly, he straightens and resumes his snotty persona. Arthur doesn’t say anything in return and instead starts down the stairs again. He leans against the stair rail as he runs his palm through his hair and mumbles to himself. 

“Lance is gonn’ fuckin’  _ kill me….” _

Arthur quickly shoves his feet in his slippers and stretches a bit, preparing himself to face off his uncle. He could only expect the worst. Not because Lance was cruel, no, not by any means… But Arthur has been forced to take the day off. Told- no,  _ commanded _ to sleep long and hard to make up for the fact that he stays up all night  _ obsessing over his books and laptop. _

Arthur chews on his lip. Its not like he didn’t have a  _ reason  _ to stay up. He’s prepping! 

Lewis isn’t going to wait forever… 

Before Arthur could feel even more stress and sadness, weighing down on him like nothing else, he hears a hushed comment from over his shoulder. He can’t make it out, but it perks him out of his stupor. He spins around and watches as Ingrid ducks under a doorframe, glancing from wall to wall with a look of fondness and sadness in his face. Arthur can’t place it, but it feels oddly familiar. He didn’t realize just  _ how _ tall Ingrid it was. He hasn’t seen anything like it before besides…

Ingrid catches his eye, momentarily surprised, before barking at him. 

” **What? Got something caught in your eye?”**

Ingrid smooths out the folds of his suit, and Arthur scoffs as he thinks about how out of place it is to be so dressed up this early in the morning. 

Arthur turns and makes his way to the garage. He swings open the door, and immediately one of his co workers pops up from the tire she was carrying. Eyeing him puzzledly. Not that he could blame her, he would probably give her a weird look if she busted in with drab sweatpants and a shirt that was far too big and probably stained and  _ god he needs to shower he smells terrible- _

Carol sets the tire down and crosses her arms with a half grin, “So should I alert the big man that you’re showing your ugly mug around here?” 

Artbur shakes his head, “You don’t gotta, he can smell the coffee breath from all the way over there.”

Arthyr straightens up and peers over one of the trucks, spotting his uncle inspecting the brake pads of a raised car. 

_ “May as well get this over with… _ Lance?” 

Lance flinches and whips his head back- looks like he’s not the only one of edge. 

“Hey can I ta-“

“What are you doing up? I know you hardly slept las’ night.”

Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes. “You know how I was telling you about the… occurrences in my room at night?”

Lance nods curtly, tossing his wrench back on the desk and staring at him. Nodding gruffly after a second to probably urge him to continue. Arthur glances behind him, feeling a wisp of energy over his shoulder, and he points his thumb behind him. 

“Well I found the ghost,”

Ingrid pops over his shoulder, clasping a hand on Arthurs’- ignoring how he flinches- and waving.

**“Hello, Mr. Kingsmen.”**

“How does he know my name?”

Arthur deflates and sighs, shrugging, “I have no idea… I’m going to get him out of here by the end of the week, but he’s going to be here for a little while.”

Lance huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “That so?”

Both him and Ingrid nod and speak at the same time, _**“Yes.”**_

Lance rolls his eyes and nods. “What’s his name?”

**“I am Ingrid Bergman!”** he says, bowing the smallest bit with a flourish, **”and I am honored to speak with you sir.”**

“So honorable as to piss off?” Lance shoots back, side eyeing him.

Ingrid deflates, shoulders slumping the smallest bit, **“...No.”**

_What did he expect would happen?_ Arthur rubs his eye and Lance gruffs again, gesturing Arthur to lean down to his level. Arthur does so, and Lance picks up his wrench and peers under the hood of the car he was working on. Pretending like he was busy.

“Think this one is any good?” Lance says quietly.

“Yeah, I think he’s just excited..”

Ingrid clears his throat loudly,and Arthur and Lance glance back at him, “I can hear you,”

“We know.”

Ingrid doesn’t know how to respond, blinking quickly before awkwardly taking a step to the side. Averting his gaze and looking… sad?

They’re all quiet for a minute from the tension. Anxiety radiating off Lance and Ingrid while Lance gave him a quick once over. Clearly pissed with the development. Lance turns back to Arthur with a less than thrilled look on his face. 

Well shit, aint than just a fuckin pumpkin pie.” Lance grumbles as he shifts and returns back to the brake pad. A grimace deeply etched into his face.

Arthur clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, a small motion to show his agreement. 

“Yeah, I’m not thrilled about this either, but we’re kinda out of luck.” He catches Ingrid clenching his fists out of the corner of his eye. Whatever.

“Well ain’t that a treat. Ya’ need help setting up those traps again? Don’t want Ingrid getting into what he shouldn’t.”

_Out of all the ways he could have phrased it._ Arthur hisses lightly, glancing over at Ingrid. Already able to imagine the strongly worded speech that would be waiting for him behind burning, hateful eyes. 

Much to his surprise, Ingrid stood slightly hunched and with all of his limbs pressing in together, watching Lance’s back more like a kicked puppy than an insulted aristocrat.

_Weird, not gonna’ lie._ Arthur shudders. “No need, I can spend the rest of the morning doing that on my own-“

“Ay. Don’t think that jus’ because we got a _’guest’_ , doesn’t mean that your job for the week is off the table.”

Jerking back, Arthur sends him a look. “My _job?"_

“Restin’ dipshit,” Lance glares at him, “How much should I bet that Ya’ haven't ate yet, huh?”

Lips pulling into a tight frown, Arthur crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a moment. Finally rolling his eyes and looking away, “Alright, whatever you say Lance.” There’s no point in arguing, especially with the dull pressure behind his eyes. Spinning on his heel, he waved and starts toward the door. “C’mon Ingrid.”

With a voice considerably more softer compared to the dramatic performance earlier, Ingrid fumbles before moving after him. **“... Okay, right behind you.”**

Teeth grinding together, Arthur’s eyebrows narrowed down into a furrowed point. His brain firing off complaint after complaint about _everything._ A ghost with a bad attitude, being scolded constantly, _guilt._ He sighs harshly as he slinks past carol with a short wave.

Voice still soft, **“Hey, Arthur?”**

Arthur doesn’t stop, taking a quick left past the garages door and into an office area. Arthur grabs the closet door and props it open with his foot. Without saying a word, he hoists up a case along the wall and props _that_ on his hip. 

**“A-Arthur.”** he finally looks up at Ingrid, who is leaning a lot closer than he expected and looking at him with more kindness and concern than Arthur thought he was capable of. **“May I help you? I don’t want to be patronizing or - or anything but you have _one_ arm… and I should be helping anyway for the issues I’m causing...”**

Arthur flicks over to his shoulder, feeling still a bit sore from being unable to sleep due to feeling like he was being _watched._

Which he _probably was!_ He frowns. “This isnt a trick is it?” He asks flatly.

Ingrid flinches back, his expressions twisting as he -probably- remembers what their relationship is. Rolling his eyes, **”I’m not a _monster_. No, this isn’t a trick. I simply want to help you.”**

Arthur’s grown deepens, the distrust obvious in his face. That is, until it gives away into a small _snarky_ smile, “If that’s the case-“

Arthur spins on his heel, leaning close enough to Ingrid that it nearly fell if Ingrid didn’t jump in surprise and grab it. Arthur stumbles, pressing his hand to the wall and regaining balance.

* * *

  
  


Arthur flushes slightly in - what Ingrid could only assume was - embarrassment before he jumped to close the door.

Ingrid huffs softly, **“You could have done that better.”** As he grumbles, he opens the box a little and peers inside curiously.

Only to blink in surprise. Candles?

“Yep,” Arthur regains his balance and plucks one of them out of the box, popping off its lid. Immediately, it lights itself. The flame flickering furiously before calming down into a steady burn. Ingrid could only stare in befuddlement as Arthur sets it down on the hallway table just past him. “It’s to let _us_ know where you are.”

Ingrid blinks again, searching for the correct words to say, but instead finding nothing.

“And you _better not_ ruin them.” Arthur then hisses, already halfway down the hall before Ingrid got the hint and followed after him.

Straight for the kitchen. Much to Ingrids relief. The sound of Arthurs stomach growling has been getting to him a lot these days...

Only for Arthur to simply grab two candles and set them up on either side of the room. The one closest to Ingrid lighting up while the other stayed unburnt.

And then... Arthur left? Moving past Ingrid and into the living room, Ingrid follows behind him.

**“What... what are you doing?”**

“Isn’t it obvious?” Arthur shoots him a look, “I’m setting up.”

**“Lance told you to eat.”**

Arthur rolls his eyes and grabs another candle before turning away again. “What doesn’t know won’t kill him.” 

**“He can read you like an open book,”** Ingrid spits back, following after him and nearly breathing down his neck.

“Then he can interrogate me later.” Arthur growls back, snatching another candle from the box and placing it on several more shelves.

They loop the entire house, from the stairs, to Lances room, to Arthurs.

And then instead of clambering back _down_ the stairs and getting food like he _promised,_ Arthur heads for the bathroom.

_”Why you...”_ Ingrid is at his heels, gripping the box tightly.

Only to stop dead in his tracks as Arthur whips back. 

“You aren’t following me into the bathroom. Got it?” He hisses, and Ingrid has to pause out of shock. “I’m going to take a nice long shower, and you’re going to leave me alone.”

Ingrid blinks, and in that time, Arthur takes the box from his hands, goes inside and promptly locks the door. The _c_ _lick_ felt almost like a personal insult...

Very well. He’ll take matters into his own hands. 

* * *

Arthur steps into the bathroom, flicks on the light, and plops his box of candles onto the sink- careful not to set off his motion activated hygiene aids. He can shove them somewhere after his shower, Arthur figured. He grabbed two at a time and set one in the shower next to the shower head- less likely to be put out- and then another on the left over sink space by the door. Just so that way he would _know_ if Ingrid decided to mess around. Arthur huffs at the thought. Maybe he’ll just take the shower head and spray him if he comes it- _And risk damaging the candles...?_ Groaning, Arthur turns on the shower, switching the dials to the preferred temperatures, before leaning against the wall beside it.

It would be in his best interest to get undressed... at the same time? Arthur couldn’t shake the thought of Ingrid staring at him. 

Unlikely! But Arthur didn’t even know the guy. He could be a massive creep who wants to doodle his butt in the mirror like a prick.

Steam starts to fill the mirror and the window. And for a moment, Arthur stares at the foggy mirror. His only hand lifting before he felt it. The cool and damp surface shocks him out of his stupor, noticing that he was _about_ to slide his palm across the place where his heads reflection would be...

Did... did he really want to see that? 

Fingers tense, Arthur gulps. His elbow feels like it’ll lock up. He didn’t want to.. to _look at whatever was underneath the fog._

_Its nothing. You know it’ll be nothing._

He’s going to therapy, he’s taking meds, no more hallucinations should be happening- But they do- _No they don’t. It’s probably just Ingrid._

While he is powerful, he’s probably not going to scare Arthur...

The condensation grows, and the steam was just a reminder that he should adjust the temperature to be cooler.

Arthur didn’t move. 

_Okay. Fine. I guess we aren’t moving until we see that it’s just me. Fine._ Steam was making sweat roll down his chin. It shouldn’t be. _Why am I so nervous?_

He knows why.

_ Fine, **fine.** One, two... three..! _

Arthur wipes. 

The only thing on the other side, is his pale face. Some stubble growing over his cheeks, and his hair was a matted mess from the pillow. He’s panting. Heart beat in his ears at the reveal.

He. Knew this. 

_Just turn down the waters temperature, and get undressed Arthur. C’mon._ He pleads with himself, and finally, his fingers and hand and arm complies.

The steam lessons drastically once Arthur makes the shower go from scalding to slightly warm. He then starts to undress. First his shirt- which he pulls easily over his head, then he’s pushing down his sweatpants. _Thank god, he had enough of them to make up for the lack of jeans._ The buttons on his old pants were... difficult to manage. Thankfully lance didn’t have an issue with his modified belts either... nor had an issue with helping him _buckle_ said belts. 

He felt useless over it, but it’s normal. He shouldn’t stress over it too much...

He discards his pants and underwear in a pile under the sink. And although he was a bit late to, he brushes over the still hanging towel to see if it was damp or stiff. Thankfully it was still useable... he did _not_ want to walk around his room bare-assed if Ingrid was still lingering.

Speaking of which- Arthur casts a glance to the candle closest to the door. It’s stem had begun to smoke. Meaning Ingrid was just on the other side of the door...

_ Motherfucker. Did he not understand privacy? _

_Whatever. It’s fine. As long as he didn’t come in._ Arthur reminds himself, finally pulling back the shower curtain and stepping into the stream.

He cringes and hisses. Some drips of the warm water rolling over his sensitive shoulder. Arthur ignores the odd spikes of pain, instead, sitting down on the shower chair- decked out with a stand covered in a sponge like material on the right side so he could scrub his right arm without much issues.

It squeaks defiantly, reminding him that he needs to tighten a few screws or add more support or.. 

_Whatever. He can deal with it later._ Right now he just has to focus on cleaning himself and relaxing. Even if relaxing was the _last_ thing he could do, he still had to try...

Vivi sent him a few candles before she left, maybe he could light some of those and read a book later...? Or- he can light them and start brainstorming locations. Where he should look first, what aids he can add to his van to allow him to drive easier... 

What he can do to find him. 

A familiar pang of guilt stabs his gut, and Arthur miserably sighs, half heartedly scrubbing soap into his limped hair.

_ Where could he have even gone? Did someone take him while he and Vivi were out? ... Did he leave...? If so, why would he vanish without a fucking trace? _

_ Was Lewis hurt...? Manipulated? Maybe the same thing that took his arm decided it wanted something stronger to take care of its deeds, but if so, why would it have left them alive? ...Why wasn’t mystery telling them anything either? What was HIS involvement? _

As Arthur thought to himself, a head pokes through the door, and the candle next to the door sparks to life.

Ingrid stands there- partially invisible- and craning his neck to look around the bathroom silently. 

What can he do that would get Arthur out of the shower? Or would harass him enough to make him? Sure, Ingrid could simply _leave him alone,_ but he had been doing so ever since he got back. Keeping his mouth shut whenever Arthur skipped his meal alarms. It was a hassle to keep resetting them every time he deleted one. So since he won’t care for himself?Ingrid will make him. 

He lets out a small breath, adding to the warm steam around him, and slips through the door. 

_Perhaps he could cause a ruckus with Arthurs contraptions-?_ he wonders, peering down at the microphone stand with a stick of deodorant propped up.

_No!_ he nearly smacks himself. _Those are his assistive devices! He is NOT going to just make Arthur’s life harder for no reason. No, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do._

So... Ingrid scans the room quickly. That is, until his eyes land on the discarded clothes... 

Ew. He lifts those up and folds them, placing them on the toilet seat. _Perhaps he could convince him to buy a hamper? Didn’t Arthur have one previously? In fact, he BOUGHT Arthur a hamper a long time ago! Maybe it ripped..?_

Then... what exactly could he do? Perhaps he could prepare something himself and then furiously knock on the door? Mr. Kingsmen would do that, right?...

Not that he could recall. Whenever he visited, he made sure Arthur would eat something, either by playful force or persuasion by smell... 

Smell could work. He _is_ a fan of tacos. 

_ Do they have tacos? _

_ Dammit, that won’t work! Arthur needs fruit, vegetables, carbs and protein. Ingrid wouldn’t settle for anything less. _

* * *

To his absolute befuddlement, there were hardly any veggies in the fridge. Ingrid taps his foot angrily as he shoved aside various condiments and meats, some fish that was on the cusp of going bad.

_Yeesh! If he realized it was this bad, he would have revealed himself sooner!_ Instead of kicking himself in the leg like he wanted, Ingrid settled for something more... _less_ than satisfactory. A small, processed meat pie that at least had carrots, potatoes, and green peas in it. He read over the instructions carefully and places it on a tray in the oven. 

...

...

...

_ He should really speak to Mr.Kingsmen about some proper food. His mama would be more than happy to help them if they needed it! Lord knows that most of the left overs produced at the restaurant went to all of the families that they knew were less fortunate. As well as the homeless a few towns over. He should know, he actually had Arthur tag along with as they sought out those people. _

While it was baking, however, Ingrid had more to do. Perhaps...

_ That’s right! The mirror was foggy, perhaps he could write a quick note before the ovens timer went off? _

_... But if Arthur stays in the shower for too long, it’ll fog up again... _

Ingrid furrows his eyebrows and glances around the kitchen- and his eyes light up as he spots a small paper cup left abandoned on the counter.

The same paper cups that Ingrid _knew_ was under the bathrooms sink.

His eyes crinkle with mischief.

* * *

Back in the shower, there were tears in Arthurs eyes. Eyes glued to the drain, and watching as clumps of hair sit and stir in the water that drained. He couldn’t find it in himself to move and scoop it up.

He couldn’t find it in himself to do anything else but cry. His body was already trembling from hunger, and now his thoughts were racing.

Dancing with any idea from how he _failed to protect his friend from being taken,_ to how _weak and useless he was now._

How could he _possibly_ find and save Lewis when he’s down an arm? Vivi has no memories! Mystery sends him into a panic! 

And he messed up, he knows he did. Lewis is _gone because of him._

Would.. would Lewis forgive him if he found him? Would he hug Arthur and reassure him that everything was alright...? Would he be angry, spit and scream and demand to know why Arthur went cold in that fucking cave.

Arthur’s lips press together in a tight grimace, his eyes blurring as he chokes on a sob. Breath hitching as he tries to breathe and gets nothing. He hunches over and presses his head into his last remaining hand. Weakly weeping. Hoping that no one would hear him as the emotions well up inside him.

_ Im.. I’m sorry Lewis... I’m sorry- _

Something _cold_ hits his back. A few drops. But Arthur’s eyes pop open and he bolts up. The emotional fatigue shifts to mostly fear, while the agony of guilt pushed itself down at the thought of a threat.

A few more drops. Arthur flinches again, twisting his head around behind him, craning his neck up to see if maybe water had cooled and collected on the ceiling...? Wasn’t the first time...

As he looked up however, a flash of black appears above him, and several more drops hit his cheeks. 

Arthur blinks.

He looks to the shower head.

The candle was burning brightly.

And the fear that made his entire body tense sudden snapped to a red, _furious haze._

He rips the shower curtains back faster than he could blink, his arm and legs vibrating as the clatter of the chair falls back. The candle by the sink quickly goes out as a flash appears next to the door- a small paper cup dropping off the counter and into the sink- which dripped like it was on _seconds ago._ Arthur grinds his teeth and steps out, bracing himself by gripping the shower curtain, and _stomping_ toward the door-

Only for something to catch his eye.

He whips his head back, eyebrows furrowed- the array of emotions whipping his mind around intensely.

The rage comes back. Fast and crackling. 

On the Mirror is a sprawled message.

_ Go eat >:( _

Arthur pulls the handle of the door and swings it open, accidentally slamming it into his toes, but he hardly feels the bite of the pain.

_”WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!”_ Arthur hisses through his teeth as his lungs burn from shouting. He didn’t care, instead he’s glaring daggers at the _bastard_ before him. Fully formed with wide-eyed sockets. A plate of _what-the-fuck-ever!_ in his hand and his other hand limply pointing at Arthur’s groi-

**”A-Arthur! You’re naked-“**

“Yeah? So what?” He says, nearly gnashing his teeth as he steps out, the slippery floor only making him feel _worse._ He jabs a finger against the taller man’s chest, craning his neck to take in every shocked detail on the spirits face. “I _told_ you to stay the fuck out, didn’t I?” His voice is trembling, just like every other part of him. “So why aren’t you _listening?”_

Ingrid must have finally got a hold of himself, because his skull twists with the upmost annoyance. **”Your _uncle_ told you to eat, and I know that if you didn’t you probably wouldn’t eat _anything_ -“**

“SO WHAT?” Arthur screams again, stomping his foot. Ingrid flinches and breaks his angry facade all at once, backing away. 

Arthur was heaving now. The anger burning up and leaving embers in his stomach. Embers that twist and tear and makes bile start to bubble. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Taking deep inhales, and even harsher exhales. A vain attempt at calming down as every part of him vibrated.

_ ”Get... out. Get out of my fucking room. Now.” _

Ingrid grimaces, before doing just that. Not before setting the plate down.

Arthur stands there in silence. A puddle forming under him as he sits there, heaving.

A fresh set of tears fill his eyes.

  
  



End file.
